Behind the Lens (Boys of Fallout Book 2) Page 16

  My eyes drop to Kie.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Tattoo places around here?” I manage to say.

  I see Brent’s head jerk as a smile creeps across Kie’s face. “Plenty.”

  “Anywhere trustworthy?”

  “You want to get a tattoo?” Brent asks, his brows hovering over his eyes as they dart over my face.

  Kie stands, cocking his head as he looks at my profile.

  “Correction,” he says, turning. “She wants to get another one.”

  “Another one?” Brent repeats, and I look at the ceiling before turning my head so the rest of the guys can see it.

  “Oh,” Brent says.

  “You sure you don’t just want to cover that up?” Aiden asks, resting his heavily tattooed arms on his guitar.

  I swallow. I should want to, but the idea makes my stomach knot. Jace may have tainted them, but they’re still my lyrics. I just need something to balance them out and let Jace know he doesn’t have control over me. Not anymore.

  I shake my head. “No, I want the words saving you for last on my forearm.”

  “Nice,” Brad says with a nod. His eyes light up, and I narrow mine at him as I wait for him to explain whatever is going on in his head. “We could have you walk through fire, and the camera could zoom around you and then focus on the words on your arm!”

  I blink hard. “You lost me at walk through fire. I thought we were burning pictures of Jace, not burning me?”

  “We only have an hour, so that sucker is going to look extremely fresh, assuming my guy can fit you in — but that will be even better — like the fire carved it there,” Kie says as he stands and slips his phone out of his pocket.

  My mouth drops open as he fails to address my concern about the fire and I turn, my eyes following him as he walks down the hall towards the kitchen area.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be special effects. We won’t actually have you walk through fire,” Brad says, smirking at me with twinkling blue eyes that I can actually see.

  I nod, and Brent follows me back to my bunk. He sits down next to me and puts his hand on my thigh.

  “You sure you want to do all this?” Brent asks.

  I look up at him, his eyes moving over my face as he waits for my response. I fight the urge to lean up and kiss him. He cares so much. I glance over at Kie on the phone, rubbing his neck as he convinces his tattoo artist to get to the tour bus. My eyes drift to where James sits in the lounge talking to Aiden and Brad about chord progression, and I realize they all care.

  I look at Brent and nod. “Positive. I need this.”

  Brent’s hand reaches up, moving my chin so that he can run his fingers over the tattoo. “You wrote them for him, didn’t you?”

  I put my hand over his. “They make me think of you, though.”

  Brent’s eyes move from the words back to my face. “Why?”

  “Because you’re the only voice I want to hear singing to me.”

  “James’ voice is better than mine,” Brent replies, and I shrug as his hand drops from beneath mine.

  James’ voice is beautiful, but it doesn’t do the things to me that Brent’s does. When he sings, parts of me shift back into place, and somehow, I feel like the holes in the fabric of who I am come together. As I look up at him, they do that again, and I realize it’s more than just his voice. It’s everything about him that shifts me.

  “Not for me,” I reply, and a smile twitches at the edge of his lips.

  “Yeah, that’s totally debatable at this point,” Kie comments as he gets off the phone, and Brent’s eyes darken, shifting from me to his pigheaded band mate.

  I turn, shaking my head at him. “You should all be half deaf from being on stage, so how the hell did you hear that?”

  Kie purses his lips. “You two are so predictable– I didn’t have to hear it to know whatever it was, it would definitely be debatable.”

  Chapter 29

  I pace the short hallway of the tour bus as my stomach flutters. The guys are sitting waiting for the video to load, but I can’t sit down. Brent stands and grabs my shoulders, holding me still.

  “Breathe, Nat. It’s just a music video,” he says, lowering his face, so it’s level with mine.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale. “Jace’s going to know they’re pictures of him.”

  Brent’s hands move up to hold my chin, and I look up at him. “Isn’t that the point? He doesn’t have your journal anymore, though. You’re fighting back.”

  “Isn’t it a cheap shot?” I ask, twisting my hands together.

  “No,” Brent says, and a smile tips his lips up. “It’s the kill shot.”

  “Okay,” I reply, and he slips his hands down my arms to weave his fingers between mine before leading me to the table.

  “It’s done,” James says, and he opens the page where the video automatically starts playing.

  I watch as the shot drifts to me standing with the pile of pictures around me. The wind blows my hair, and the camera briefly focuses on the tattoo behind my ear and trailing down my neck. I lean down, and the shot pans as I pick up a picture that shows my face from the nose down and the tattooed torso of a man. I take the lighter to the corner of the photograph, burning the part that’s Jace. The camera moves behind me so you can see the photo on fire between my fingers. I breathe in, just as I do in the video and the image melts, only Jace’s arm around my waist now visible. The photograph slips from my hands and flutters to the ground as the shot moves out and shifts through the flames to the guys playing again. The camera moves between the band and me in various stages of burning photographs until there’s a circle of pictures in flames around me and only one left in my fingers.

  The one. Jace’s favorite.

  The camera lifts, and I look directly into it as I light the picture on fire. The shot zooms past me and around as the photograph burns from Jace’s smirk down. When the flames reach his chest, I blow on it, and the picture disintegrates. The flames grow around me, and I’m glad for whatever editing software Dave uses because there definitely wasn’t a ring of fire up to my waist.

  I would’ve crapped myself if that happened.

  The camera pans out as I step out of the ring of fire, and it zooms in on my fresh tattoo as the song fades.

  “Now, we wait and see if Sky can get this thing to go viral,” James says with a smile. “I can’t wait to play this song live. Thanks for giving it to us, Nat.”

  I bite my lip, looking around the table at their grateful faces. “Thanks for giving me a voice.”

  Brent squeezes my thigh under the table, and I fight the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. Instead, I give him a smile.

  “I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long night,” I say as I stand.

  “Come on! We should celebrate the video!” Kie replies, pouting at me.

  I roll my eyes. “You guys can celebrate, but I’m going to bed.”

  I go to my bunk and lay down, pulling my curtain shut and putting my earbuds in. My eyes close as I sink into my sheets, listening to the new I See Stars album. I’m woken up by the smell of something I’ve always thought resembled a dead skunk. My eyes shoot open, and my stomach clenches.

  No. Please no.

  But I know that stench anywhere. I fight the angry tears as I yank my earbuds out and rip open the curtain. I open my drawer and grab my backpack, throwing in my toiletry kit, a fresh set of clothes and my tablet before slamming it shut and slipping on my sneakers. The sound of laughter up front makes me grind my teeth.

  Celebrate? This was how they celebrated?

  I storm up the hall, stopping at the living area where the boys are sitting at the table passing the bong.

  I cross my arms as I stare at James.

  “I asked you to warn me,” I say, my jaw hanging open as he stares at me with glassed over eyes. I gag at the scent. “I didn’t…”

  My voice cracks as I stop and my eyes move over each of the members and stop on Bren
t, who can’t even look at me. He’s staring at his hands on the table. Jace’s words race through my mind he’s got the same issues…Pot…Alcohol. I was a fool to think just because they hadn’t yet that they didn’t. I shake my head before throwing my hands up and turning.

  I head for the door as Kie coughs out a plume of smoke and calls out, “Chill, Dollface!”

  “Nat,” James says, and I stop with my hand on the door knob.

  I clench my eyes shut before inhaling and heading outside. I take a moment to look up the hotels in the area, and then when the car picks me up, I tell the driver which one to go to. None of the band members attempt to come out and calm me down, and I’m glad for it. I’m pretty sure I would say something I’d regret. This isn’t the first time I’ve spent a night in a hotel because a band got too rowdy, but I expected James to clue me in on the fact they were planning on getting high.

  When I get into the hotel room, I flop on the bed and turn on the television. At least I won’t have to watch it on my tablet. I sit up as my eyes wander across the room to the bathroom, and I can take a nice long shower. There are some perks to being pissed at the boys. I grab my cell phone and toiletry bag before heading into the bathroom. I chose a four-star hotel, and even this cheaper level room has a super nice bathroom. Then again, anything is better than the four square feet I typically take one in. I turn on music before drawing myself a bath and sinking into the bubbles as the anger eases away.

  I know better. It’s not a misnomer that sex, drugs and rock and roll all go together. We’ve been on tour for almost six months, and they haven’t fulfilled any of the stereotypes, but I should’ve known it was a matter of time. I squeeze my eyes shut as I let the soap run out of my hair. I just didn’t fit into that part of the industry; at least not anymore. My eyes close as I tip my head back and the memories wash over me. The tour after Undertow released Monster’s Epitaph is a blur of drunken concerts and nights with the band. I probably would’ve continued down that same road if I hadn’t overdone it. My chest hitches as I think about that night. There are flashes of puking my brains out and passing out wrapped around the toilet. I woke up with the band around my hospital bed as the machines beeped. I almost drank myself to death, and I promised myself I’d never do it again. I haven’t stayed on a tour bus while a band drinks or gets high since.

  I jump as my phone vibrates, moving its way across the counter as I lean up to see Brent’s face on the screen. My heart continues to pound as I pull the drain on the tub and grab the phone, swiping my finger across the screen just as it’s about to end.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Brent’s voice is filled with concern, and he doesn’t sound wasted anymore, but it’s only been an hour and a half.

  “A hotel,” I reply as I grab a towel and wrap it around myself. “Why?”

  “Which one?”

  “The Resident, it’s only a few minutes away. I promise I’ll be back before you guys hit the road in the morning.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes then,” Brent replies, and before I can reply not to bother the call ends.

  Chapter 30

  My stomach flutters as I look in the mirror. My mascara hasn’t entirely washed away, and I look like someone hit me in the face. I lean forward, using the edge of the towel to clean up the lines. At least it looks like I’m wearing some makeup. I dry off before slipping back into my yoga pants and a tank top and yanking a brush through my hair before tossing it up into a messy bun just as a knock comes at the door. When I open it Brent’s standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, and a backpack tossed over his shoulder.

  “I wanted to wait until I was straight before coming. I would’ve followed you out, but I figured me being stoned would only make it worse,” Brent says and his brown eyes race over my face as he tips back on his heels. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course, but before you explain whatever the hell you’re doing here, go take a shower. You smell like a skunk’s ass,” I reply, nodding to the bathroom I just came from. “You can use my soap or the hotel’s.”

  “Thanks, Nat,” he replies, heading in and closing the door behind him. I sit on the bed, pulling my legs to my chest as I try, but fail, to watch television. I can’t get my pulse to slow or my mind to stop racing about why Brent made an effort to come here. When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s shirtless and in his pajama bottoms. They hang lower on his hips today, accentuating them in a way that shoots my pulse even more out of whack. I try to tell myself to breathe as my eyes trail up his lightly toned stomach to his tattooed chest. My face flushes, along with the rest of my body, as my eyes finally come to his face. His lips cock to the side in a smirk that meets his eyes. I want to say something smart, but right now, I’m pretty sure the only thing that will come out of my mouth is drool. Brent pulls on his black tank top, which never really hides anything because it’s perfectly tight, but it makes me feel like a few of more hormones are checked.

  “So I’m assuming you’re planning on staying the night?” I finally manage to ask.

  Brent finishes drying his hair and throws the towel over the pile mine is in. “If you don’t mind. I don’t really want to go back and bake.”

  I look up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

  “Of course.” I let my eyes fall back to his. “Now explain why you’re here and not there…baking.”

  He sits down on the end of the bed and looks at the television, before turning his head. “I feel like I failed you.”

  I scoot down beside him. “You don’t have to feel like you failed me. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I hate knowing I–we disappointed you,” Brent replies, putting his hand on my thigh. I inhale before putting my hand over it and letting my fingers slip between his.

  “I guess I just thought you guys were well on the way to breaking all of the stereotypes I’ve had to live with all these years. Like you were the perfect band match for me.” I swallow before continuing, “Not that it would matter since after the tour is over, I still have to move on. I guess I’m going to have to make a rule for not getting too attached to the bands I tour with.”

  Brent tilts my chin, so I’m looking at him, and I can’t help my lips parting as I stare back at him.

  “Are you getting attached to me?” he asks, his thumb drifting over my lower lip and making my whole body tremble.

  I close my eyes, inhaling through my nose. “I don’t screw around with my clients.”

  Brent doesn’t respond, and I open my eyes as he bends his forehead down to mine, whispering, “You didn’t say falling in love was against the rules.”

  “Who says I’m in love with you?” I ask as his lips hover over mine and his eyes race over my face.

  “Maybe you’re not,” he replies, and his voice is hoarse. “But I’m in love with you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as every part of me begs for me to let this happen; to give in, but this can only end badly. I taste Brent’s breath as it washes over my parched lips, and I can’t help but let my hands find the back of his neck as I struggle to comprehend this feeling of endless spinning; of how his touch electrifies my skin and calms it all at the same time.

  “Say something, Natalie,” Brent says, his voice a cracking whisper.

  I bite my inner lip as his gaze meets my own. His eyes dilate as he waits for a response. I can’t say anything, though.

  His parted lips are so temptingly close, and I lean forward pressing mine against them. His neck tenses beneath my hands as I lean my body against him, pushing him back into the bed. His lips leave mine for a moment, tracing a line up my neck and to my ear.

  “I still wish you’d say something,” he says, and I move to the side of him, placing my head on the pillow as I watch his chest rise and fall rapidly. His fingers move a strand of hair behind my ear, and he runs them across my jaw line. “Anything, Natalie.”

  “You’re right…I never made a rule against falling in love,” I reply as I
trace the outline of the words on his chest. I swallow as my eyes drift up his face. “Don’t make it, so I have to.”

  He shakes his head as his fingers race down my bare arms to my waist, and his lips find mine again as he moves his body over me. His hands slip beneath my tank top up my spine as my body arches into his, and my lips follow the vein that bulges when he screams up to his ear.

  My voice cracks as I say, “I love you, Brent.”

  His body reacts to my words, and his skin rises under my fingertips as I slip his shirt over his head, kissing his shoulder as his hands move under my shirt to pull it over my head. He kisses my mouth as his hands travel down my side to my hips. I pull his body back over me and tilt my head back as I relish the warmth of his skin against mine.

  “Brent,” I say, voice barely audible, as I tangle my fingers in his hair. My heart pounds hard against my chest, restricting the air to my lungs as my eyes water.

  His breath washes over my neck as he breathes out. “Are you okay?”

  I nod as my body shudders beneath him and panic laces my blood. “How will this ever work?”

  “We’ll make it work,” he says as he balances himself above me with his forehead pressed to mine.

  I suck my lower lip in, and my lashes are tipped with tear drops. “What if it doesn’t?”

  Brent shakes his head, thumbs wiping away my tears as he leans forward and kisses my nose. “It will.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask as a wave of cold comes over my body.

  “Because ever since I met you, every day I’ve felt like I’m a better person–like I’m actually living my dream, when before I was just walking in someone else’s. I’m not willing to let that go,” he replies, his voice soft.

  I pull my lower lip into my mouth before saying, “I’m not going to quit my job.”

  Brent kisses my mouth, then my chin and my neck until his lips are at my ear. “I never expect you to.”

  My body trembles. “Why are you so perfect?”

  Brent laughs, pulling away and leaning on his elbows. “I’m not perfect at all…as I prove time and time again.”